Pro-Dom
by BrodieBlue
Summary: Dean Ambrose is a 'Pro-Dom' to a cougar who has peculiar needs. This is usual BrodieBlue freakishness. You know what to expect. Don't like, don't read.
1. The Soft Core

**So, there isn't a lot of smut in this, really. Because it's not just about that.**

**Also, related to that ... For the first time ever I'm inviting requests. If you want me to write about anything you've ever been too afraid to request, I can probably include it in here as this series will lend itself well to that kind of thing. Send me a PM and I won't even mention you requested it, if you don't want me to. Alternatively, you can ask me an anonymous question on tumblr; see my profile for my account name.  
**

**I can write NORMAL smut too though, so don't be afraid to request kisses and cuddles either if that takes your fancy ;)**

* * *

The Pro-Dom let the barbell drop to the mat on the floor with a heavy thud. Cressida flinched even further backwards against the wall and raked her nails up it tensely. She watched it bounce slightly off the mat, then her eyes focused on him again. He returned her stare, then slowly twisted the cap off his bottle of water and took a great swig of it. He then closed his eyes and tipped the remains of the bottle over his head, letting it soak through his grey t-shirt. The water cascaded over the triangular shaped sweat stain that had formed down the centre of his chest and made the fabric of his shirt cling to his Adonis body even more. He pulled the t-shirt over his head with a small struggle and lunged the sodden fabric at Cressida's sharp stilettos. She bent down to pick it up delicately between thumb and forefinger and carefully hung it on a hook on the wall beside her.

"I knew you'd pay highly for that shirt. I shouldn't have poured water over it, should I? Now it's ruined, huh?" he mocked her.

Cressida's cheeks coloured a pale pink at the thought of burying her nose into the musky, grimy t-shirt. It was disappointing that it would not dry the same; she would just have to get it washed now.

He then pulled at the drawstring around his gym shorts and when the loose bow came undone he tugged them down his slender hips; underneath he was commando. Cressida suppressed the urge to run her wet tongue along her bottom lip as she eyed his cock. She wanted to take it in her mouth and make him hard; right now he was halfway there. Next, he bent his wet head to remove his socks and sneakers and toss them aside. Cressida was almost swooning on her heels as she watched his buttocks rub aside one another and move up and down atop his wonderfully lush thighs when he turned his back on her to walk to the black leather couch that lined the corner of the room. He sat down hard on the couch, threw his head back against the head rest and spread his legs wide.

"Alright. Clean me."

Cressida dropped to her hands and knees on the highly polished wooden floor and crawled to him. His eyes were closed, he wasn't even watching her. But she knew he could hear her and if she got off her knees before she reached his feet, he would punish her. Once she was between his legs she adjusted her position on the floor; parting her hands and knees further. She stuck her neck out, and licked his cock. His eyes snapped open.

"No, no, no!" He gave the side of her head short slaps as he reprimanded her. "Don't start there! I want _this _cleaning first," he said, gesturing to his shining chest.

Cressida straightened herself up on her knees and put her hands on the couch on either side of him, taking care to not touch his body, and leant forward to press her tongue into his navel. She licked the centre and around it until she could no longer taste the sweat that had dripped into the dip. Then she ran her tongue up the middle of his chest, along every line, dip and bulge. Sometimes she repeated the tracks she made to make sure that she no longer tasted his perspiration on his body and only tasted it on her tongue. Once satisfied that she had performed her duties sufficiently she eagerly bent her head to his cock again, but he pushed her away.

"My dick is fine."

He then abruptly got up. Cressida's eyes briefly lingered on the sweat patches his body had made on the couch as it had pressed onto the leather. But especially on the seat, which now bore indentations of his perfectly sculpted cheeks. He then clutched the back of the couch and knelt on to the seat, spreading his knees wide. His legs were so far apart and his ass stuck out so much that his asshole was beautifully presented to her.

"I am really fucking sweaty. _This _needs cleaning the most. Smell for yourself."

She watched his pink anus contract as he pushed out so that she could inhale his scent. The sweat he had produced clung to him, both the smell and the slick appearance of it. It mingled with the purer scent of his asshole, that smell that never went away even on the cleanest of humans. Cressida let out a slow, shuddering breath against his asshole.

"You are so disgusting. I can hear you getting off on my sweaty fucking asshole. I can't believe you pay for this! Go on, lick it then, I know you want to!"

He tasted different to how he usually did; he tasted _tainted_, yet still fresh. This was the purest taste of him she'd ever get. All of that teasing; watching him work out, 'cleaning' his chest, but his ass had brought her to her limit. She pushed her hand under the waistband of her tights and beneath her knickers; sodden. She furiously flicked the tip of her finger over her swollen clit then she closed her eyes, felt her body ricochet into some other orbit where nothing but the taste and smell of him existed for her, then she came.

She was aware of him getting up from the couch above her and stepping over her, and then she heard him walk away and turn the shower on. Cressida allowed herself a few moments to regain her composure before raising herself up from her knees on the floor and watching him. He always left the door open for her.

"Come closer if you like!" he shouted at her, though his back was turned to her as he scrubbed a sudsy bath lily under his raised arm.

She was a lucky woman today; he never let her get that close. She felt another orgasm fast approaching as she watched the water run over his body through the completely see through glass panes of the shower cubicle. She closed her eyes, giving into her desires, but she opened them again when she felt sweetly scented, damp mist surround her face. She was greeted with a naked, wet and literally steaming hot Dean Ambrose.

The sight pleased her, but the moment had passed. She faced him, unabashed; she had become well practised at staring him down and making him look away first. She was a formidable woman outside of these sessions and now this session was over she was the employer and he was the employee. He _would_ look down and he did, but not before insolently looking at her through his golden eyelashes.

"Ladies first," he then said and gestured to the open living space, come gymnasium, that lay outside of the small confines of the bathroom. Cressida walked in front of him as was her right and privilege.

She then searched in her handbag that she kept in plain view of both of them; hanging on the back of the front door, and took out today's payment. You could never be too careful around his type. He took it wordlessly as he usually did and counted it rudely in front of her eyes before deciding he was satisfied that she had paid the correct amount and stuffing it in the bottom of his rucksack, that also lived beside her handbag when he came here.

"Why don't you let me set you up here?" she asked him whilst watching him pull clean clothes from his bag to change into.

"I've told you before. I have ambitions and I'm happy where I am, but thank you anyway Mrs. Verney," he said. The shadow of a smile graced his usually snarling mouth only briefly, long enough for her to see the token act of politeness and be thankful for it.

"Well it seems a shame to leave such a lovely apartment empty most of the time. But no matter."

She watched him make fast movements; gathering his discarded gym shorts, rolling them up and pushing them into the recesses of his bag. He wiggled his socked feet into his well worn sneakers and she watched his hand hover over his grey t-shirt, then he withdrew it, remembering that he had made a gift of it to her.

"Until next time?" Cressida asked when she could see that he was ready to leave and nodded to him when he looked at her.

He nodded back and put two fingers to his brow in a saluted farewell, then let himself out of the apartment. When he was gone Cressida reclined on the black couch. Everything in this place was either black or white and everything was carefully placed. He looked quite the scruff in such neat surroundings but it would be convenient to have him always here when she felt her urges. But if the boy refused there was nothing she could do to sway him.

She remembered their first meeting well. She'd sought out Ambrose when she had lost her former Pro-Dom, a young man whom she'd met through an online fetish community, owing to his need to 'move on' with his life. By which he meant he had a girlfriend and felt compelled to settle down with her. Cressida didn't care much for his reasons, what mattered to her was that she had to fill the vacancy he had left. She'd tried to find another Pro-Dom the way she had found her previous, by trawling through chat-rooms. But after a few unsuccessful meetings where the man in the flesh turned out to be deficient in some way, she'd decided she'd have to fork out good money for the type of service she required.

Money was not an issue for her, she'd kept her former Pro-Dom for three years. He had been a student and though she did not pay him, they both got mutual enjoyment out of it; she always paid his expenses and took care of every comfort he ever needed seeing to. So she'd trawled online advertisements for Pro-Dom's. It was important that he was a 'Pro-Dom', many men described themselves as such but when you met them they proved to be anything but. They had too many limits. What drew her to one Dean Ambrose was that he did not advertise himself online as a Pro-Dom, instead she'd found him through an organisation that had placed a small advert in the local newspaper, quite by accident. On first glance it appeared to be advertising a wrestling school but the word 'Session' put together with 'Wrestler' stood out to her. Any woman, who had lived a fetishist lifestyle for as long as she had, twenty years or thereabouts, knew what that meant perfectly well. She had never wanted to 'wrestle' a man, the thought was obscene to her, but her curiosity pushed her to make enquiries.

The male promoter's voice on the other end of the line faltered when she mentioned the term she had seen in the paper and he passed her over to a woman who apparently dealt with that. Cressida explained that she would like to meet their finest and would pay top money just to talk to them; no wrestling involved. The woman had been only too happy to agree to that and that was it. A time and a place was agreed and a description was given to her of the young man she could expect to turn up at her apartment on Wednesday evening; about 6'4, athletic build, light coloured hair and blue eyes.

He first impressed her by being extremely punctual. So many so called Pro-Dom's thought being late would put the potential submissive in the right mind set, but it didn't for a woman like Cressida. She immediately thought him unprofessional. And even worse, often you had to go to them. So she was first impressed that the woman had assured her there would be no need to seek him out. Then to see him arrive at 8pm on the dot was nothing short of a miracle. However, when she first took in his appearance he did not impress her. He had a fine figure and that was very important, if she wanted a man to do half the things she wanted done to her he could not be a weed. He was a tall, strapping young lad. Almost everything else about him was unremarkable though; he had a plain face, small mouth, not a particularly strong jaw, a nose which was also small and not so well formed and hooded eyes. But the colour of his eyes was interesting, they were light blue and oddly cold. When he smiled sardonically at her he did not appear lit from within, he still remained cold, but it beautified him somewhat. He revealed dimples that were becoming and white, fairly even teeth, which were a must for her. Already he had grown on her after only a minute of acquaintance. Then when he spoke, she was nearly sold on him. Such a low, gravelly voice with a subtle hint of a Midwest accent, which she found most charming. But what really sold her on him was how he did not bat an eyelid when Cressida reeled off her list of needs to him. He waited patiently for her to finish and only had one question to ask.

"How much?"

"Name your price," Cressida replied.

He mulled it over for a moment then came up with a figure. He was overpriced for sure but Cressida agreed to one session with him, for which she would pay his asking price in full no matter what. After that, he would wait for a call from her. It could come in a week from then, a month or never, but that was the way it went in this business. But he pleased her so much that she called him back again and again, and called him her Pro-Dom.


	2. Taylor's Tutelage Part 1

**This is the first part of a request I got from xxFallingSkiesxx. The smut I'm writing for this is longggg but I'm putting this out there because I want to hear what she and everybody else thinks of it so far.**

* * *

"Hello beautiful."

Taylor slowly turned her head at the familiar sound of her flatmate's low, scratchy voice. A smile stretched across her face on seeing him and he smiled back at her. He sauntered to their couch she was lying on and gently stroked the back of her light blonde head, before playfully ruffling the top, like an older brother would do to his kid sister. Taylor tried not to beam too brightly, but he made it incredibly hard not to.

"You actually moved from that couch all day?" he asked.

"No," Taylor grinned and giggled when he swatted at the side of her head.

"Lazy bitch!"

It was 5pm and Taylor was still nursing a hangover brought on by last night's binge.

"What did you do with her?" she asked as she watched him walk away from her to throw his rucksack and those tatty, smelly old sneakers into his bedroom.

She knew he had been with her; it was in the way he moved and the look in his eyes she'd seen when he'd been lingering around the couch. He slammed his bedroom door shut, then slowly walked back to the couch. Yes, he was definitely doing that walk.

"Oh you love hearing the details don't you?"

His eyes were alight; Taylor knew he got a kick out of describing what he had done with his mysterious benefactor. She refused to think of her as a client, that would make Dean a whore and that was an uncomfortable thought. He put his hands on his knees and leaned down, close to her.

"What's your first question when I walk in here? Not, 'hey! How's your day been?' You dirty girl!"

"Hey! I know you wanted me to ask!"

And even if he hadn't, one way or the other she always found out what had gone down. Taylor grinned sheepishly and hoped it hid just how much she wanted to know. He laughed like some dirty old man.

"Well, I worked out, did some weight training." Dean mimicked weight lifting, just to get a sweet smile and girlish giggle out of her. "She watched. Then she licked allllll the way up here." He slowly traced a finger from beneath his belly button up the middle of his chest, stopping at the dip between his collar bones that showed through his t-shirt. Then he turned around and ran his finger up the join of his jeans that was stretched tightly across his ass. "Then here, up my crack and over my asshole. She licked that asshole real good."

"Urgh! You're fucking gross!" Taylor slapped his backside sharply, but was careful to make the briefest of contact. When such a great opportunity presented itself she couldn't resist smacking his ass, but she didn't need him to know that she enjoyed touching his butt more than a friend should. He leaped away from her and turned back around to face her, sniggering like a school boy.

"I'm a bit sore now though to be honest. Any room under that comforter?"

Taylor straightened up, drew her legs up to her chest and threw it open for him. Dean sat down hard next to her and stretched his arms behind his head; he looked tired.

"I don't think she treats you well."

Dean turned his head sharply to look at her.

"What? You should be worried about how I treat her!" he laughed.

"You said that you're sore. And you look like crap."

He wrinkled his nose at her, "thanks ... woman, I just worked out! And I can assure you I make her much sorer."

She gave a mocking snort through her nostrils as he smiled smugly.

"Yeah well, maybe you shouldn't wrestle tonight. You've probably wrecked yourself now."

"Don't worry Mom! I couldn't cancel on them anyway. People have paid to see me!" Taylor laughed. "What? They have. Laugh all you want, some people actually have."

She gave him a levelling look which Dean took in with his pretty blue eyes.

"OK, OK. I can't cancel because if I do, who are they gonna find to replace me? I wouldn't shit on them like that. Anyway, you just want me to stay in so that we can snuggle all night, don't you?"

He then draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him so that she was pressed against his side and they were huddled under the comforter. Taylor half wished he wouldn't. She didn't know if he had any idea how that made her feel ... At first she only rested her head lightly on his shoulder, but eventually she stretched her arm over his chest and lowered her head, completely relaxing her neck and settling into the embrace. She listened to the steady rhythm of his heart beat, enjoyed the feelings of warm affection and security he gave her and closed her eyes. When she felt extremely contented his voice vibrated in her ear.

"You get shit faced like that again anytime soon, you'll be in big trouble young lady."

They hadn't spoken about the state she had been in last night, but he was joking ... wasn't he? Hadn't he done the same thing many times before her and was still doing it? He _was _joking. But she was still glad he couldn't see her face; she was glowing. Usually a million comebacks would be on the tip of her tongue, but she _wanted _to feel like she was in trouble and wanted to _feel_ the consequences of being in trouble. But she couldn't ask for that, and besides, he wouldn't understand, nobody ever had.

"Dean, just so you know, I know that people pay to see you really ... I don't know why I just said that."

"I know," he replied, and squeezed her tighter.


	3. Taylor's Tutelage Part 2

**Here's the second and final part of the request I received from xxFallingSkiesxx . This is unlike anything I've wrote before I think and I really want to hear what you all think of it so please review! Here's hoping you enjoy it!**

* * *

"Wowww..."

Dean looked _killer._ He'd just sauntered into their apartment at an ungodly hour dressed in a tuxedo and with his hair artfully slicked back. It had clearly been styled by someone other than him, maybe _her. _The thought filled Taylor with a stupid sense of ... _something _that she immediately tried to shake off. It wasn't like she wanted to style Deans hair; that would be ridiculous. Suddenly feeling like a slob she returned the milk carton she had been drinking from to the fridge, hastily wiping the top on the sleeve of her fluffy bath robe before she did. She caught Dean's eyes flicker to what she was doing and watched him suppress a smirk.

"Dean ... where'd you go dressed like that? You look amazing!" Taylor said, attempting a smooth recovery.

"To a charity gala. I was Cressie's date for night."

"I thought she was married."

"She is. But it was kinda like a fetish party for rich bastards," he said as he brushed past her to take the milk from the fridge that she had just drunk from. "Stop drinking from the carton. Okay?"

Taylor awkwardly ignored him, "Where'd you get that tuxedo?"

"She bought it."

"Isn't it enough that she already pays you to fuck her and do all kinds of nasty shit? You let her buy flashy suits for you as well!"

They looked at one another following Taylor's outburst. Her heart felt like it would explode in her chest, she looked away first. She needed to calm down.

"Dude," Dean said. The unfriendly tone made Taylor look back at him. "What's your fucking problem? If you don't like it or have nothing nice to say, then don't say anything at all."

Taylor swallowed hard. He sounded horribly cold, they'd never argued before. They had bickered, what roommates hadn't? But right then he looked like he hated her.

"Don't call me that," she said quietly.

"Don't call you what?"

"Dude."

"Dude!-I mean Taylor, I didn't even realise I'd called you that. What's wrong with it anyway?"

"It's like that's all I am to you. Just a dude."

"What? No. We're good friends. Very good friends. I don't know what you want me to say ... What is this? Are you jealous?"

He stared at her and Taylor stared back at him. Perhaps if it had been one in the afternoon she would have immediately denied that she was jealous. But in the early hours of the morning she did not give a shit. She shrugged her shoulders and gave him a challenging look.

"You are jealous, aren't you?" he then started slowly walking towards her, gently swaying his hips. "Is this what you want Taylor?"

Taylor did not move and waited, her heart pumping far faster than she thought a human heart could. She hadn't planned on this happening. Not ever. When he was right in front of her face he put his hand on her waist, through her open bath robe, and pulled her towards him. But she splayed her hands out flat on his chest and pushed him away. She couldn't do this.

"Alright," he exhaled and took a step back. She could tell she had annoyed him. "Tell me what you want. I'm not a mind reader."

"It's not that I don't want you. You look so hot right now," Taylor admitted with a sigh, looking up at him through her bright blue eyes. "I just don't think you can give me what I really _need. _It's nothing personal, no one can ..."

"Tell me what you need."

His eyes had turned dark and he was moving closer to her again.

"No ... It's ... you'll think I'm a weirdo."

"Try me. Do you really think there's anything I could find weird now?"

She thought back on everything Dean had ever told her he had done and none of it seemed as messed up to her as she was.

"Yes."

"You're wrong. You don't know half of what I've done ..." he said, shaking his head slowly. He was in front of her again, breathing down her loosely fitting t-shirt. He leaned down to her ear to whisper, "just give me a chance."

Then he softly kissed her neck. Rather than pull away Taylor tentatively moved her hands up to his shoulders, then clutched them as she let his mouth traverse her neck. But she knew she shouldn't let herself be so easily swayed.

"Dean ..." she sighed, "we're friends. We shouldn't be doing this."

"Shut up and take it," he growled.

Taylor acquiesced a little; she _loved _that kind of talk. Him saying those sorts of things to her and meaning them was hard to resist. She put her hand on the back of Dean's own neck and stroked the smooth, warm column. She'd wanted to feel his neck for a long time.

"You really like teasing me," she whispered.

She wasn't just thinking about this moment, every touch and word he'd passed on to her in the time she had known him had now taken on a different meaning.

"I do. Do you like it?"

"Yes."

"Good."

His mouth left her neck, then he grabbed her hand and dragged her behind him. He was taking her to her own bedroom she realised and in her excitement she felt even more warmth spread to her pussy. He pushed her against her closed bedroom door and looked down into her eyes.

"I think you're a bit dressed down around me, don't you?"

Taylor laughed and was glad to hear the sound break the heavy, sexually charged atmosphere."I suppose."

She reached up to stroke the skin she could see poking through the collar of his shirt then her fingers trailed over the bow tie. He was fucking delectable. "You're so handsome Dean ..." she said sincerely.

He grabbed her hand. "Eyes up here," he demanded. "When we get in there, I want you to take off all your clothes," he said, shaking her hand in his firm grip. "Yes?"

Taylor felt the most contented she had in a long time. Finally, somebody got her. Why had she been so cautious? She should have known that he would be able to give her what she needed.

"Yes Daddy."

Surprise immediately flashed across Dean's eyes at the way Taylor had addressed him and she felt his hand slip from hers. Horrible disappointment gripped her and she rapidly felt her libido drop. How could she have read him so wrong?

"Shit. Forget it. I'm sorry," she mumbled, looking away from his judging eyes.

"No," he said firmly and tightened his grip on her wrist again, holding her tighter than he had before. "No. Are you swearing at your Daddy?"

Her breath hitched ... was he really willing to go along with this? She looked up at his face and didn't see mockery in his eyes.

"I didn't mean to. I'm sorry ... Daddy."

Suddenly he turned her around, making her squeak in surprise.

"Get in that room right now," he said through gritted teeth, then smacked her ass. Hard.

He was her roommate, he was a good friend and he'd just ... spanked her. He'd given her a joking pat on the butt before, but he'd never given her a heavy handed smack intended to hurt. Once inside her room he held the tops of her arms hard, but reassuringly so.

"Show me what a good girl you can be and get undressed," he ordered.

Taylor took a deep, steadying breath and nodded. She shrugged off her bath robe then put her hands to the bow holding her pyjama bottoms up, but her hands were quivering too much to unfasten the tight knot.

"Don't be nervous," Dean said and covered her hands with his big, strong warm ones.

"I can't help it."

"Let me undress you then ... You trust me don't you?" he asked.

"Of course," Taylor replied. There was no question.

"Then let's do this," he said.

He moved her hands down to her sides and deftly untied the bow, then pulled down her bottoms all the way to her feet, stroking her legs as he did so and stopping at her calf to kiss her leg. His soft lips were making her pussy incredibly hot ... Then he ran his hands over her naked hips and under her roomy t-shirt, over her bare breasts. She felt his right hand squeeze lightly around her breast and she whimpered. Taylor pressed her forehead against his chest and placed her hand over his that was now kneading her breast. Then he moved his hands to the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it up gently over her head.

"That's better," he said with a smile and pulled her by her hand again until they were both in front of Taylor's full length mirror.

She saw the contrast of her fair skin and light blonde hair against his black suit. Her nipples were pink and hard, like rosebuds. She could see that her pussy lips were tinged pink beneath the golden hair. Her mouth was red, her cheeks were pink and she was panting. She looked away, overcome with embarrassment.

"Look at yourself," Dean demanded and held her body in front of his, gently turning her face. "You're such a pretty little girl."

Dean moved his hand down her throat and rubbed his finger over her right nipple. He smoothed his hand down her rising and falling chest, until he reached the gold hair which barely concealed the space between her thighs. He ran his fingers through the hair until he reached her melting centre.

"Ohhhh yeah. I knew this was my pussy."

He moved the tip of his finger over her clit and Taylor tightened her shaking thighs around his hand. He was as good as she had always imagined he would be. Then Dean pulled her to her bed which he sat on then pushed her down by her shoulders between his parted thighs. Taylor tipped her head back to rest on the inside of his thigh and Dean leaned over her to stroke his finger over the pink, wet, swollen flesh that peaked through between her legs. She closed her eyes. Damn this felt so right.

"Open your eyes," Dean ordered. "Look in the mirror. How long have you been wanting me to do this?"

Dean removed his fingers and brought them up to stroke her throat, Taylor automatically arched her neck like a cat.

"I said look in the mirror."

Her heart skipped a beat. He was hitting that authoritative tone spot on. He was a natural. She obeyed and was greeted by the sight she had seen before, only this time her legs were open and good god, she had never seen herself that wet and turned on before.

"You're such a bad girl," he said, whilst holding her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror. "You need me to fuck you. To show you who your Daddy is, isn't that right?" Then he turned her head to face him.

"Yes Daddy."

He laughed softly and smiled. "Hmm Taylor I think I like this a lot. Our new arrangement. I could get used to this. Couldn't you?"

"Definitely," she rasped.

"Spread those legs," he then demanded.

Taylor made a sound she didn't think a man had ever made her make before as he went back to working his fingers between her legs. She clutched his thigh then sought his warm bulge and squeezed, but as soon as she did, Dean's hand clamped around hers.

"Did you ask permission?" he said icily.

Taylor looked up into his smouldering eyes before answering.

"No Daddy," Taylor whispered then gasped when he pulled her to feet and pushed her over the end of her bed.

"You don't touch my cock without asking me first," he said, then she felt his hand sharply slap her ass again. "Am I making myself clear?" he asked after delivering three more slaps.

"Yes, I'm sorry Daddy!" Taylor cried out.

He roughly turned her over and she looked into his eyes again, biting her lip, "that hurt," she giggled. But he didn't look like he found it funny; he looked like he was desperate to despoil her body.

He had her uncomfortably trapped against the edge of her bed and Taylor sank down more comfortably to her knees when she saw his hands go to his fly. She could hardly believe she was about to suck her roommate's cock.

"You're clearly gagging for this. You need my cock so much that you couldn't wait to touch me. You bad, greedy little girl," he said then guided his cock into her eagerly waiting mouth.

"Oh God!" Taylor swore around his cock after a moment of frantic sucking. "You taste so good Dean!"

She felt like a cannibal devouring him. She tugged his pants down and kissed the silken flesh that she revealed, clawing up his chest with her hands as she did so. His naked flesh was such a wonderful novelty to her.

"Pleaseeee take it off. Take everything off!" she begged.

"You need to start being a good girl first. Then you'll get that reward ..." He traced his thumb over her lips. "Open your mouth." Taylor obeyed and he pushed his thumb into her mouth, she tightened her lips around it and sucked, slowly and carefully. "That's how I want you to suck my cock."

"Yes Daddy."

Taylor closed her eyes and engulfed his cock again. She resisted the urge to suck hard and tried her best to perform as he had told her to do. She felt his hand stroke the back of her head; she knew she was doing well.

"Mmm good girl. I think you've earned your reward ... and a bit more."

Taylor looked up at his smug face then backed away from him to watch him undress. She thought he might put on a show for her, but he didn't and really that was no surprise. The teasing had gone on for a long time now and she had no reason to believe that he didn't want her just as urgently as she wanted him. Once fully undressed he grabbed her hand and jerked her to the bed.

"Get on the bed."

She obeyed and he pulled her legs so that her ass rested on the edge of the bed, then he got to his knees and very suddenly she felt his tongue lick her pussy. She reached down and at first stroked his slicked back dirty blonde hair, then held on to it tightly, ruining the carefully crafted look. His mouth was hot and so keen, he was eating her out just like she'd wanted to eat him. His eyes had been closed then he opened them and looked at her.

"I can never get enough of pussy. Fuck I want your sweet pussy all over my face!"

He pushed his tongue through her folds again, there was no particular technique to his licking, he just wanted to taste her. He was all over her pussy; she could even feel his nose nudging against her clit. When he stopped again he wiped his messy mouth and chin on the back of his hand then lay on the bed and dragged her to him by her hips.

"Sit on my face."

Before Taylor could decide whether she was comfortable with doing that or not Dean was already pulling her to him. He manoeuvred one of her legs over his chest and it was clear what he wanted. She straddled his face and moved backwards until her pussy hovered over his face. Then Dean pulled her hips down and moved her back and forth over his tongue.

"Ride my face," he said through a mouthful of her pussy.

Taylor steadied herself with one hand on the bed and pressed herself more heavily against his mouth. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked so powerful, but she was still Dean's little girl ... though his position beneath her was submissive, he was controlling this. He reached a hand up and pulled her hair back, as if he had read her mind. Taylor put her hand over his when the tugging became sharp then he pushed her off him and tackled her onto her back on the bed. She was encased in his arms, his hard bare cock nuzzling the innermost of her thighs. He lowered his face over hers again and pressed his mouth on hers. The smell of her own pussy filled her nostrils and the taste was strong on his tongue.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked. Taylor nodded and he kissed her forehead, then rolled off her.

She watched him take a foil wrapper from the inside pocket of his tux, tear it open then roll the condom onto his cock. Then he lay back down on the bed.

"Get on top of me like you did before. I'm gonna take you reverse cowgirl," he grinned.

That sounded hot but ... "I'm not good on top."

"I'll show you what to do Princess. Daddy will show you exactly what to do."

That was what Taylor needed. He understood that she needed to be shown the way. With the help of Dean's guiding hands she slowly lowered her aching pussy onto Dean's thick cock. She closed her eyes and adjusted to the feel of a man inside her, then he lifted her hips and she moved with him. He pulled her down slowly onto his cock again.

"Watch yourself. Watch me fucking you," he ordered.

Taylor opened her eyes. She saw his hips thrust up; sharply driving his cock into her and making her breasts bounce as her body jumped up. It was a little uncomfortable for her, but she needed it like that. It felt the best like that. Dean seemed to like it as well because she caught a glimpse of him watching her facial expressions in the mirror. Their eyes met and he grabbed her hair again.

"Can't you do as you're told? Hmm?" he asked, smacking the side of her ass a dozen or so times as he moved his hips up and down.

Taylor's breathes became more laboured and interspersed with gasps when she felt his nails dig into the chunk of her ass cheek. Her eyes closed again but they shot open when she felt Dean push her weight off him and drag her yet again. He moved to the end of the bed and sat spread legged on it. He pulled her between his legs again as if to sit her on his lap, and he did, but on his cock.

His sticky chest pressed against her back and he put one hand on her throat and the other on her hip to bounce her up and down on his length. His thrusts felt much sharper and deeper in this position. He owned her pussy like no other man had before, just a little bit more and she would cum...

"That's it!" he growled when she pushed herself faster on to his cock, then he closed his hand around her cheeks. "Look in the mirror! Watch yourself fucking cum!"

Taylor watched the frenzied movements of their bodies working together; his thighs wobbling as his pelvis smacked against her pussy, the bounce of her breasts, her own thighs quivering as she felt her orgasm come. She forced herself to keep her eyes open; she had to obey her Daddy.

"Fuck! Yeah that's it!" he cried when Dean met her focused blue eyes in the mirror, "Who's the Daddy?"

"You are!" she cried as she came.


	4. Thief in the Night

Cressida looked out of the narrow alley that opened onto the street he said he'd be approaching her from. He'd been very insistent about where she should wait and what direction to look for him in. She'd been there only a few minutes but every second longer she spent there alone at this time of night, the more nervous she became. She watched every one of the few figures that passed, though she'd know his form instantly. When a solid warmth pressed against her back and a large hand smothered her mouth it came as a shock. She dropped the heavy bag she had been holding at her feet noisily and automatically twisted her neck to see her assailant.

"Shh, shhh, shhhh!" Dean breathed into her ear. His strong, muscled arm stilled her instinctive struggles against him and held her securely while her heart rate slowed to a less vigorous beat.

Cressida blinked at him and took in his appearance as he held her. He wore a dark hoodie over a beanie hat and showed no skin on this cold night, save his naked hands and shadowed face. She could see his eyes shining in the dark and she looked into them trustingly; waiting for him to continue the game.

"Don't scream, don't make a sound. Do everything I tell you to do and I won't hurt you. Do you understand?" he growled.

Cressida nodded.

"Good."

Then he stroked a finger down her cheek. His touch felt warm on her chilled skin and her breath steamed in the air as she let out a shuddering sigh. He ran his hand down her long throat and closed his fingers around the pale column.

"Open your bag."

Cressida instantly obeyed and removed her purse.

"Open it."

She felt him nod, his chin nuzzling the top of her head as he bobbed his head.

"Is that all you got?" he asked with a hard edge to his voice on seeing the inside of her almost empty purse. "_Oh_. That's a problem, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry," Cressida whimpered, playing the weak female, but she was still mindful enough of the real situation to return her purse to her handbag.

"Didn't you fucking hear me bitch? I said, _don't make a sound_. I don't want your apologies. They're no good to me. Tell me how you are going to make this up to me. That I'll enjoy hearing," Dean said, giving her neck a warning squeeze.

Cressida pressed her backside against him; his words and the pretence of danger turning her on.

"I don't know. I'll do anything you want. Just please don't hurt me."

"Anything I want? So you'll get down on your knees right now, open your mouth and suck my cock?"

"Yes ... anything," Cressida closed her eyes and imagined what it would feel like to do that ...

"You would? Hmm. Are you married?" he then asked, picking up the chain that glinted around her neck and lifting the heavy weight of the ring that dangled at the end of it.

"Yes."

She gasped when he sharply tugged on the chain, forcing it to bite into her neck briefly before snapping away. He then threw his steal up into the air and caught it in his upended palm.

"Well, this will melt down for a good price. Decent amount of gold in that. But what's your husband gonna say when you come home without this around your scrawny neck?" he teased.

"I don't know," she winced, working through the sting of the fresh scratch she could feel on the back of her neck.

"You don't know. Do you know anything woman? Are you going to tell him what I've done?"

"No, I promise I won't. Please just let me go."

"Shut up. You've still got a long way to go to making it up to me; you aren't even on your knees yet ... This piece of crap," he said, weighing the ring in front of her face, "is only a fraction of what I was hoping to make from you tonight."

Cressida then watched his hand slip the ring into a pocket of his jeans.

"I'm going to ring hubby while I'm fucking your throat. I'm going to make him listen to you choking on my cock."

"If you want ... just please don't hurt me."

He ignored her.

"Then I'm going to cum in your face. Would you like that?"

Cressida just let out a breathy moan at the overwhelming wetness he was making seep through her panties.

He laughed and it sounded real, "Ah you would you dirty whore! Imagine going home like that. _Smelling _of another man's cum. _My _cum."

"Noooo," Cressida whined. She felt that would be too much even for her unusually accepting husband.

"No?- Shh!" he abruptly stopped torturing her and covered her mouth with his hand again. "There's someone coming."

Cressida's eyes snapped to his again and he lowered his to look at the black silken neckerchief she was wearing then unravelled the loose wrappings from around her neck.

"Are you ready?" he asked her.

Cressida nodded. At the feel of his fingers closing around her wrist she stooped to pick up her bag then followed him further down the alley, he stopped them when he found a more secluded spot. Cressida stayed perfectly still for him to tie the neckerchief around her eyes, winding all the fabric until the world turned pitch black for her. She felt him shake the knot he had made at the back of her head to make sure it was secure then he slipped his hands down to her shoulders.

"I'll steer you," he said and waited for her to take a blind step forward before moving his feet.

She knew she could trust Dean by now. He handled her carefully and kept a tight grip on her, but the experience of being blind was still unsettling. She was now reliant on her remaining senses and her sense of hearing was on high alert. Every sound of the outside at night; distant traffic, far off footfalls, the scampering of rodents ... whether real or imagined was more terrifying than it had been when she could see. Thankfully they stopped after a short walk and he pulled her into his chest again, wrapping his arms soothingly around her body. He put his soft lips to her ear.

"You okay?" he whispered.

Cressida gave a steady nod.

"Are you enjoying this?"

She nodded again.

"Do you want me to carry on?"

This time she accompanied her nod with a squeeze of his hand and he gave her waist a reassuring squeeze back. Then he pulled her again, to yet another stop. She felt his body twist behind her and heard his free hand shuffle in his pocket, whilst he rested the other on her shoulder. He leaned forwards, over her, and turned a key in the lock. The noise of the steel canopy door of her garage rising in front of her face startled her, even though she knew to expect it.

"Remember the step," he warned her before they walked under the raised canopy together.

Dean released her once they were inside and lowered the canopy behind them; the click of the lock helped to ease the tension Cressida felt inside her. It was just him and her now.

The space around her felt still and cold. She was in a box made of brick with a floor that was harsh, hard concrete. She listened to Dean move about the garage; turning on the heater and making things as comfortable as possible. He then took a hold of her arm again and made her walk until Cressida's knees hit the old couch she had stored in here. He turned her around and pushed down on her shoulders, instructing her to sit.

Then his strong, warm palm cupped her cheek and she heard the rustle of his clothes when he crouched down beside her, then felt the heat of his breath on the side of her face.

"It's comfortable in here isn't it?" he asked darkly.

Cressida whimpered, knowing that they were both playing their roles again.

"What? Don't you like it here? Is it not good enough for you? At least it's more comfortable than outside hmm?" He stroked her face again and she dug her nails into the cracked leather of the couch on either side of her.

"But I don't want to be here," she whined.

"I just pulled you off the streets," he said in a slightly more raised, aggressive voice, "who knows what could have happened to you if I had left you there?" he added then laughed at her silence. "Let's take a more thorough look in your bag, yeah?"

Cressida listened to the zip and clasp of her handbag being wrenched open and shuddered to hear the contents of her bag being emptied onto the hard floor.

"What are these?" he said, then she heard the light tinkle of plastic hitting the concrete, "store cards ... A credit card? What's this one? A current account card? No, no ... Oh what's in here?"

Cressida wondered what he had got his hands on until she heard the cutlery set she had bought today being shaken in its box.

"What is this?" he asked her, "it sounds promising."

Then she felt his weight sink onto the couch next to her followed by him clicking open the clasps on the box.

"Oh wowww. You do have expensive taste!"

She could imagine the silver shining in the dim light the beam above their heads was probably casting over it.

"Is this real silver? Is it hallmarked? ... Is it?"

She felt the sharp point of a steak knife digging into her thigh and she flinched at the surprise of it though it was not painful.

"Yes," she said softly.

"What a find! Do you think I would get more value out of this if I melted them? Or if I pawned them? How new are they? Are they desirable? I mean, who buys silver knives and forks these days?" he laughed but his laughter came to an abrupt halt. She heard him edge closer to her on the couch then felt him lean his shoulder into her.

"I'm not pleased ... It's a good job I'm partial to older women. Now and Then," he said, turning her face to him, then stroking her cheek again, "you're my consolation ... let's see what you got."

Cressida inhaled deeply, now they were really getting down to business. He tugged her from the couch sharply and pulled at the sleeve of her coat

"Strip," was the one word he said in her ear.

Her hands fumbled on the buttons of her coat, even though she knew her way around the garment well enough.

"Hurry up," he warned her.

Cressida made clumsy efforts to remove the rest of her clothes quickly, she almost tripped when stepping out of her pants but Dean didn't let her fall.

"The undies too," he said when she stood still after stripping down to her bare essentials.

Cressida trailed her hand over her breasts, over the soft white lace that covered them and felt that her nipples were hard and perky through the delicate material before removing her bra. Her panties soon followed her bra to the floor and again she nearly lost her footing, her toes catching as she stepped out of her panties but Dean steadied her again. When she felt Dean's hand slip away from her elbow she straightened herself up again and rested her arms by her sides. She could feel slight tremors going through her body and her skin forming goose pimples in blind anticipation of where she would next feel his hands.

"You're not bad," he complimented her, without placing a hand on her.

Cressida felt her face grow hot at the backhanded compliment. She felt her need would never be sated. Being naked in front of this man was thrilling and she enjoyed his barbed words. There was something so deliciously humiliating about being told you were good, but not good enough for him.

Then she felt his hand squeeze her breast firmly, but not too hard. He rubbed his hand over her breast, rolling her hard nipple under his palm. Then he caught her nipple between his fingers and increased the pressure of his hold on it until it was painful for her.

"You stay there, you stay right there," he said and withdrew his hand, running a finger down her breast and over the pointed tip as he did.


	5. The Five Senses

**For OtherLuces. She knows which parts I wrote with her in mind.**

* * *

Cressida heard his boots slightly stick and squeak on the floor as he walked away from her. Then the sharp sound of the zipper on his hoodie being pulled down reached her ears. She could hear the rustle of his clothes, another zip being pulled, the tugging of stiff fabric over buttons and the snap of elastic against flesh. She was sure he was completely naked; his smell was much stronger now.

She strained to listen to the softer tread of his bare feet approaching closer and closer. He stopped in front of her; the delicious, warm smell of his skin now fully intoxicated her and she felt enveloped by his naked warmth though they were not even touching. He then wrapped his fingers around her wrist and placed her hand on his rising and falling pectoral muscle; over the strong, steady beat of his heart. Cressida stretched out her fingers and he slowly pulled her hand downwards, over the firm curves of his pecs and down the steps of his abdominal muscles. He brought her hand so low until she felt the sensitive skin around his crotch flutter under her hand and his wiry golden hairs tickle her fingertips.

"Wouldn't you like to see?" he asked her, cruelly pulling her hand away and enclosing her fist in his to hold it tightly down by her side again.

Cressida made a sound of agreement.

"Yeah? I fucking robbed you! Are you that desperate?" he barked with laughter. He let go of her hand as if disgusted by it and took a step back from her.

"You can't see any of this. You don't get any of this. But I get to see you. I can see everything."

Cressida reached her hand out; he was still so close and she brushed his arms with just her long manicured nails.

"Ah ah ah!" he admonished her, taking another slow step backwards. "Don't you move, don't you try it. I wanna see my catch tonight and I don't want your hands getting in the way."

He then pulled her to him by her wrist.

"What are you doing?" Cressida asked as he started to drag her with him.

He was being rougher with her and he was not so careful to make sure she wouldn't trip but she knew he would never let her anyway, not really. When he stopped he slid open a drawer of the unfashionable dresser that lived in her garage and pulled out the handcuffs she had planted in it earlier. They clanged against the wooden insides of the drawer ominously and she questioned if this was ever a good idea.

"Arms up," he said when he took her back to the place she thought she had been standing in before, but she couldn't be certain.

Cressida heard her breath leave her body with a rattle and she knew she must have looked jitterish to him. She was not playing now and though they had talked it through and planned it carefully, she felt nervous.

"Do it bitch. I can still hurt you," he said and yanked her hair back with one sharp tug. "I'm joking," he then assured her, murmuring in her ear in his normal, low rumble and Cressida felt instantly reassured.

She raised her arms to allow him to snap the handcuffs shut around her wrists, staying still so that he would not accidentally pinch her skin in the unforgiving metal.

"That okay?" he asked her, leaning into her ear. "Not too tight?"

Cressida shook her head.

"Okay ... look at you ..." he said softly.

He skimmed his fingertips over her stretched out stomach, from hip to navel. His touch was so light that her stomach lurched at the ticklish sensation.

"Stay still," he ordered, as if she had control and was being feeble minded.

She then listened to his feet softly pad on the ground away from her and winced when she suddenly heard her silver clatter all over the floor. He came back to her again, but armed it seemed. She felt something sharply pronged and icy cold prod her stomach. He pressed it in, making her jerk.

"I said to stay still didn't I?" He hissed in her ear.

"Yes!"

The fork was then lightly drawn up her stomach to the swell of her breast. The sharp metal, brand new and not worn down by use, gently scratched her skin. He then flicked it up and down over her nipple. The scratching felt a little sharper and she could feel even more heat build in the peak of her nipple.

"What am I going to do with you?" Dean mused.

Then he brought the fork up to her face and pressed it down hard enough so that she could feel her skin being pulled as he dragged it down her cheek. Her skin was left tingling when he stopped. She followed the sounds of his feet moving again, around her body in a circle until she felt the fork scrap across both her buttocks. He brought the fork around to her front, over more sensitive regions. She felt the fork part her pussy lips, gliding over her skin still left tender from her wax that morning. He then found her enlarged clit that could be seen between her lips, Cressida bucked her hips at the peculiar sensation.

"You're turned on by a fork. You must be such a whore. Here, taste it."

He put the fork to her mouth and Cressida's mouth was already open and waiting. She closed her mouth around it and sucked off the light moisture. Then she felt him run his short fingernails up and over her ass, like a claw, so soft it raised the hairs on her skin. His tough fingertips made slight contact with her flesh at the same time and her heart was set to pounding. Then he dug his fingers in and his nails pierced her skin, her flesh catching underneath them when he dragged them over her ass again.

"Spread your legs," he then ordered.

She did so cautiously, shuffling them apart awkwardly. She knew he had crouched down before her when he lightly traced his fingers on the insides of her thighs. He kissed up the skin there, his soft rounded lips barely touching her. The tip of his nose slightly nuzzled her as he kissed upwards to her pussy, she heard him inhale her strong scent of arousal then breathe out slowly, surrounding her pussy with heat.

"Please touch me," she begged, "please ..."

She felt his hair brush over her stomach as he got closer to her. The tip of his tongue teasingly flicked her clit and he gave her small, torturous licks. Then he stopped and all she could feel was his hot breath again, she hoped he would go for it, but he didn't. He never flattened his tongue and dragged it over her opening, he just continued to flick her clit with the sharp, pointed end of his tongue. Cressida pushed her hips forward, hoping to press herself against his face but he still would not give her what she so badly wanted.

"Do you think you'll cum like this?" he asked, making sure to keep a distance between himself and her sex.

"Yes."

"I bet you're so close. You're literally dripping wet, you've got a stream hanging from your dirty pussy. And I can smell you, you smell so strong."

She could smell herself too. She couldn't see that she was dripping wet but she could certainly feel how wet she was.

"Just a little bit more and you'll cum, won't you?"

"Yes ..."

He resumed licking her. Those damn little licks, but it was enough, she was going to cum, she was right there. Then he pulled away.

"Don't you dare fucking cum. You don't get to cum. You don't deserve to."

Cressida whined loudly, it was a not a sound she ever made. She was not a child and she was not using to being teased and ...

"Denied," she heard him say lowly and felt a puff of hot air on her pussy when he laughed.

"I think I'll just leave you here like this. Tied up, horny as fuck, for someone to find you in the morning, if you're lucky."

Then he dragged a chair over to her and Cressida felt so frustrated she could cry.

"But I think I'll enjoy the show," he said.

Then she heard the wet movement of his hand around his cock and his groans. It was driving her crazy, hearing him and feeling his body radiating heat so close to her but not within her reach.

"Fuck I'm so close to fucking exploding! Do you want my cock?" He breathed.

"Yes please!" Cressida begged, her heart hammered and she struggled in the handcuffs. She was beginning to feel light headed, she felt like her blood was leaving her brain and rushing to her pussy.

"Oh I know you do. You're so desperate and dirty that you'd let the man who's just robbed you fuck you."

Cressida heard him rip open a condom and rush forward quickly. His clammy hands gripped her hips hard and pulled them to him, she felt his cock between her lips and he slipped inside her with ease. His hands scrambled around her thighs and he lifted them, wrapping them about his waist. He pounded her so hard Cressida's body trembled and she completely let go. The sounds she did not usually enjoy hearing coming out of her mouth didn't bother her anymore, she let her cries echo around the space and revelled in hearing his equally animalistic noises.

His fingers dug into her soft thighs and he dragged his nails down the length of her left thigh, to the back of her knee. Cressida felt like her skin had been scratched to breaking point but it felt good, she just wished she could return the favour by racking his well muscled back. Feeling weightless and not earth bound by gravity she let the immense pleasure that had taken over leave her body too and she came with his dick still pumping inside her.

"You came without my permission?"

He gave her one hard smack across the face that snapped her head back and made her cry out shrilly. Tears at the intensity of the moment pricked her eyes and she spluttered with sobs, then he thrust into her for what felt like would be the final time but this was unusual; he'd carried on after she had cum. He swore loudly and moaned, confirming that he had indeed cum, and rested his sweat covered head in the crook of her neck and shoulder in exhaustion. Cressida wished she could stroke his head ... but even if given the opportunity she wasn't sure if she would have. That crossed a line, didn't it?

When he finally lifted his heavy head from her shoulder she heard him shuffle about the garage and she was made to wait for him to untie the neckerchief from around her eyes. Once he unburdened her Cressida narrowed her eyes, expecting to be blinded by the light but the solitary light bulb did a poor job of lighting the garage. However, the sight of Dean almost blinded her. She didn't think she would ever grow tired of the sight of him naked, sweating and flushed slightly pink. He stood in front of her to unlock the handcuffs and Cressida stared up at his chin, she of course hadn't noticed in the dark outside that he had had his chin stitched up. When Cressida's wrists were free he left her to attempt to rub feeling back into them with her numb fingers while he dressed himself again. She noticed that he threw his clothes on without even trying to dry himself of the sheen that covered his body but Cressida couldn't do that. She grimaced when she saw the only piece of clothing she had with her that didn't really matter, her neckerchief, was the only thing that was fit for the purpose. She spritzed her naked body with her perfume that she always carried around with her and covered herself up again.

"Did I do good?" Dean asked when they both finished getting dressed.

Cressida smiled warmly at him and nodded.

"Yes, you were ... amazing. I don't think I can find the words to express how much I liked that. Thank you."

Then to her pleasure she laughed like a kid, not many people in this world could make her laugh like that.

"I liked it too," he grinned

"I could tell."

She thought of him cumming inside her. He always pulled out first and finished himself off ... she never questioned it and he didn't mind her watching. The only other times he had ever cum anywhere near her was when she requested that he cum on her. They had to respect each other's limits and she accepted that this was just a side job for him, if he didn't enjoy everything she did, that was fine. But she preferred it when he enjoyed their encounters as much as she did. She tried not to read too much into it but they had made a lot of progress. Three months ago she would not have given him a key to her garage, asked him to pretend to mug and kidnap her, then blindfold her and tie her up. Though admittedly, nothing of value was stored in this particular garage.

They looked at each other and she wondered if similar thoughts were going through his head but his expression was hard to read, as his face often was. She turned away when it was clear that neither of them wanted to say anything else and she searched her bag for his envelope. But before handing it over she opened her other purse and pulled out a few more notes, he had earned it after all.

"Oh thanks," he smiled when he took the envelope and the extra from her without any embarrassment.

"I'll walk you back to your car," he offered.

Cressida accepted, "that would be good of you, thank you."

They exchanged few words as they both ensured nothing had been forgotten before they left the garage.

"So how is the wrestling business treating you right now?" she asked when they turned their backs on the garage and walked briskly.

She looked to her side at him as she awaited his answer. His profile was pointed up slightly, like he was breathing in the smell of the night and his shoulders were hunched against the cold under his layers. She saw the side of his mouth pull up into a smirk and his eyes swivel to the side to answer her.

"Good, I suppose. I still like it."

"Is the pay still terrible?"

"For what I put myself through. I'm still waiting to be paid up by some fuckers actually."

Cressida frowned slightly. She was in the habit of telling people off for using bad language, but she refrained from doing so right now. There was a time and a place for it though, in her head and in their sessions, mainly. She wondered if she should suggest he take legal action but she realised how clueless that would probably sound to him.

"Really?" she said instead, which actually sounded even worse to her, "but that's not why you do it I suppose?"

"Well, yes and no. I love wrestling, but I'd like to go as far as I can."

He added nothing more then they both saw her car ahead of them, "this is you. I'll see you around."

"Aren't you getting in?" Cressida asked him.

"Nah it's okay. I'll walk. It's not far from here."

"I know," she didn't, she just knew he resided in the same city as she did. "But it is cold. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said lightly.

"Alright then. Well, goodbye. Take care."

"You too. Laters."

The obsessive in her wanted to follow him in her car but she would never be so unprofessional, neither would he. He was a good Pro-Dom, but maybe too much of the Pro ... she found him fascinating.


End file.
